Falling Action
by asteriskjam
Summary: Sasuke deals with the repercussions of his betrayal and realizes her devotion will be the end of them both. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to end! …How we’re supposed to end.” -SasuSaku-
1. the volatile exposition

**Falling Action  
By: asteriskjam**

A/N: This started out as a one-shot then it just...I don't even know what happened, but by the 23rd page I said to myself, ok, so maybe this isn't going to be a one-shot. XD Anyway, this is my take at what happens before the end (hence the title: the 'falling action' is supposedly the step before the 'resolution' in plot). It's obviously SasuSaku and it's actually kind of **sad**, so beware.

Enjoy.

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_the volatile exposition_

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He wakes up not knowing what time it is. In a full-sized bed that's always half made and untouched, half a crumpled heap of sheets. In an apartment that's too bare—nothing but essentials and tiny bits of memory he does not dare disturb.

He wakes up to nothing in particular. The rhythmic tick-tocking of the clock in his kitchen, the muffled talk of passersby, the too bright morning seeping through the sliver between his perpetually drawn cerulean curtains; the ones she said would give his room a little color.

His eyes just open.

He wakes up, but continues to lie there. Eyes stormy, like he'd just stepped out of a nightmare, body aching with the strain of his lungs heaving too tight breaths. He turns his head slowly, till his cheek rests against the cotton of his pillow.

The space beside him is smooth and pristine and the sheets smell like that flower detergent she used to cut coupons for. It is also empty, but he isn't surprised.

He wakes up.

He doesn't want to be awake.

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His doorbell rings and the chime is so sudden in the too quiet space, his sensitive ears are momentarily deafened and pulsing. He climbs out of bed in a smooth, methodical manner, mouth in a characteristic frown.

He knows who it is. The chakra signature, a usually mellow warmth (that often spiked with her temper), is so familiar he doesn't need to open the door to know who's waiting behind it.

"Go away."

"_No."_

The voice is muffled, determined. Annoying.

It has only been a couple of days since his return to Konoha and he does not understand why she is bothering him so soon.

"Go _away_."

"_No! Open up!"_

"Go. Away."

"_I'm not leaving!"_

There is a short moment of quiet but he can still feel her spiking chakra on the other side of the door.

"Sakura, leave."

"_No! Open the door, please!"_

"Why should I?"

"_Because I made you breakfast, bastard!"_

His brows furrow and he wonders for a second if it's actually Naruto standing behind the door. He shakes his head and makes his way over to the kitchen in graceful, calculated strides. His feet touch the cold marble and he pauses at his table to reply, "Your pity is wasted here, Sakura. It is neither needed nor wanted."

And she shouts back in a voice that is incredulous and confident, "_Since when did breakfast mean 'I want to sympathize with you'? Open the door Sasuke!"_

He idly realizes this is their first real conversation in three years.

"No."

She growls and he admits to not recognizing this kind of ferocity in her. Her voice is suddenly deeper and her chakra is suddenly sharper, and he can hear her glare through the wood, _"Sasuke, in the next few seconds, you are going to open this door and you are going to welcome me in with open arms."_ She huffs here,_ "We will then exchange pleasantries, laugh about good times, and share this nice breakfast that I have slaved over since six this morning." _

He snorts with her audacity and a minute passes with no movement on his part whatsoever. She stamps her foot,_ "If you don't open up Sasuke, so help me, I will tear this door clean off its hinges—"_

"Shut up." His tone is only slightly darker, but she's always had the innate ability to pick up on his moods. His patience is growing thin. He's had enough of this determination that he doesn't recognize. New Sakura is grating his nerves with her daring attitude and Old Sakura, echoing on in her ignorant persistency, is whittling away his already damaged self-control.

She's finally quiet on the other side.

"I don't want your breakfast." He sneers, hand gripping tight on the lone chair in his apartment, abruptly filled with the all too recognizable intent to hurt, "I don't want to see you. Ever."

He needs her to remember that he is a cold-blooded murderer. That he is a traitor to the village; that he is currently under the scrutiny of the council for crimes against _humanity_. He is not the Sasuke she once knew and he would never be the Sasuke she once thought she loved.

Everyone else knows to keep their distance. Most do so in fear, some in hate. The few daring ones offer meager, unfelt 'welcomes' and proceed to leave him be. Even Naruto, his obnoxious rival, his stupid ex-teammate, his _friend_, is cold and quiet and awkward in his presence.

The rest of Konoha know how to treat a missing-nin.

He is used to it.

"Leave me alone."

Her voice is so soft, he almost strains to hear it, _"Never."_

A few seconds pass before her tone has retained remote normalcy; though there is an underlying stroke of something akin to desperation, _"Please. Let me in."_

He glares at nothing and tries hard not to think about her words on a deeper level.

She should know better and yet there is nothing in her voice or attitude that suggests fear or hate or insincerity. There is only this impossible hope.

Another few minutes pass, and the doorbell rings again.

She speaks up on the other side, tone still unwavering but not quite as fired up, _"We don't have to eat it together. Please, just accept it."_

He does not reply and her steady energy abates as she leaves.

When he is sure she has gone, he opens the door. He scrutinizes the blue box on the ground for a moment, before picking it up and lifting the cover.

He should find it incredibly absurd, how she spelled out 'Welcome Home, Sasuke!' in a combination of natto and dried seaweed; how she's made the bowl of rice look like the Uchiha Clan symbol by laying out cut strips of salmon over the top; how there are tomatoes on the side (instead of the traditional slices of pickle or sour plum) because he told her a long time ago that they are his favorite food.

But he doesn't.

In spite of himself, he retreats back inside, food in hand, almost nonsensically careful about leaving every bit of its arrangement in tact.

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The next morning, he wakes to the sound of the doorbell ringing and the glow of too warm chakra.

She is here again and his eyes narrow in confusion.

"_Morning Sasuke!"_ She says from behind the door, voice cheerful and feminine and _annoying_; like he didn't just reject her the day before.

"_Let me in!"_ She exclaims, energy happy and unsuppressed like she wasn't talking to a killer.

"No."

"_I have breakfast!"_ She says.

_Pft._ As if that will sway him.

He deems it best to ignore her. If she will not be persuaded with his straightforward logic, he will flat-out disregard her entire being.

"Please."

Her steady chakra is still at the door several minutes later. She still waits with this quiet determination, like she knows for sure that he will eventually submit.

And he does not understand _why_. When she has Naruto and Kakashi and Ino and everyone else in town to turn to; people who've earned her loyalty. Why does she try so hard for him—someone who's repeatedly hurt her, who would probably continue hurting her in whatever ridiculous future she foresees for them.

Finally, he hears her sigh. "_I have a shift at the hospital right now."_ She hesitates, _"I'll leave this here."_

He opens the door when her chakra dissipates and there's a glass bowl covered in tin foil at his feet.

He picks it up gingerly, lifts the aluminum to find a salad arranged into--_what?_

They are weapons he realizes. The celery stalks have been cut into kunai and kodachi, onions and cucumbers into lopsided shuriken, tiny strips of carrots have become what he thinks are senbon. The main part is lettuce covered in thick ranch at the bottom, cherry tomatoes lined in a half circle at the top—the Uchiha symbol.

She is so inane, he almost scoffs.

But he doesn't.

And again, the meal is brought inside, and he isn't quite sure why he is being so delicate.

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It is the fifth day and he isn't surprised when the condensed chakra of an ANBU arrives at his door to deliver a message. The Godaime would like a word about his upcoming preliminary hearing.

He is however kind of surprised that _that girl_ didn't come with a clever tongue and some frivolously assembled breakfast food.

He is also relieved, but not quite as relieved as he knows he should be.

He sighs and leaves the house for the first time in days.

He walks to the Hokage Tower, uncaring of the looks and whispers at his back. It doesn't matter that the shinobi who used to look up to him, now hiss insults when they think he's out of earshot. It doesn't matter that the civilians who used to stare openly and admiringly at him, now back away even when he is simply attempting to pass through like everyone else.

He is used to it and he expects nothing less.

He is no longer the rookie prodigy this town used to love.

He is a criminal and he tells himself not to anticipate anything different.

'_Let me in.'_

He closes his eyes tight, and he counts quick, efficient steps all the way to the office.

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He is sitting in Tsunade's office and is neither relieved nor distressed with what she tells him.

There are four possible outcomes to his hearing, she says.

He would be put in local jail for maybe a year or two, where he would grilled for information on a weekly basis about the Sound, Orochimaru, the Akatsuki, his brother, etc.

He would be put on probation where he would be under the close, constant watch of three ANBU officials. Should he prove his loyalty, a direct effect of good behavior, he would be reinstated as an official Konoha shinobi.

Any combination of the two, with jail time and info pressing preceding any time on probation.

She looks at him seriously here and she tells him that the council is more often than not ruthless with traitors to the village. She tells him that they would consider the fact he had returned home on his own, the fact that he had exterminated two major threats to Konoha, but that he shouldn't count on their sympathy.

The fourth possibility is execution.

And he looks at her with cold eyes and mutters only, "I know."

He leaves and nothing in his expression hints that he is aware of that he might not see next year.

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He is walking through the pavilion of the Tower when he hears a group of girls, nurses he figures, considering their white uniforms, mention Sakura's name. It is an unconscious effort on his part to tune into their conversation.

An incident has occurred.

"I can't believe Sakura-san would do that!" says one girl in a disbelieving whisper.

"I know right? It's so weird of her. I mean, everyone knows she has kind of a temper, but it has never before been turned on one of her patients!" says another.

The third girl in the group scoffs, "It's so unfair! Just because that little twit is the Hokage's student, she gets away with pouring a drink all over an injured patient!"

He leaves the tower quick enough and convinces himself he isn't at all interested in whatever predicament she's gotten herself into.

He just happens to pass by the hospital on the way home and there are more nurses outside, talking. As he stealthily ducks by them, Sakura's name is mentioned again. He consciously attempts to ignore them but a couple of words slip past his apathy, nonetheless.

"…Sakura-san—"

"—I know! How incredibly impulsive—"

"Poor…Mizaki-kun!"

"…And all for that Uchiha-traitor--?"

He is convinced she's done something moronic, but what he cannot fathom is the possibility she'd done said moronic deed on his behalf.

All for that Uchiha-traitor.

The few words disarm him and his head is full of useless little things: her breakfasts, her pleas, her determination, as well as unsettling bits of the memory of a pink-haired twelve-year-old who wouldn't let _anyone_ say _anything_ about her Sasuke-kun.

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He is at sitting in his kitchen around one and the doorbell rings.

It's suddenly warmer in the cold of his apartment.

"_Sasuke, open up!"_ Her voice is bright and still as unwavering as day one.

_"I couldn't make it this morning because I took the midnight shift last night, slept a little over there, and had to replace one of the attending doctors for a couple hours."_

"_Her kid came home from his first mission and she wanted to see him."_ She explains, as if he's interested.

Her blind compassion is in itself, _blinding_.

"_I figured you wouldn't mind a nice lunch!" _

He is quiet.

_"Sorry it's not home-made or anything. I rushed here from the hospital."_

He is standing so close to the door he can hear her breaths on the other side. Her chakra is bright and inviting and he is suddenly enveloped in it.

He knows she's smiling.

_"I didn't want you to think I abandoned you or anything."_

She's so stupid. Why would he think that?

Nonetheless, his throat is tight with an emotion he doesn't quite know. He finds this faith, this protectiveness, and this patience disconcerting and unfamiliar.

He has already recognized his status in this village—someone to be shunned, someone to be forever acclimated with the words killer, traitor, monster; someone to be looked at in awe or alarm or revulsion, but always at a distance.

He is unused to her fortitude; uncomfortable with the sheer vigor she invests in forcing herself into his life.

Her hand is on the door. _"Please."_

His fingers hover over the knob and some part of his brain is screaming that she should know better, that he should resist. That he is a murderer and she is someone needed and loved by too many. That this is a farce, a joke, a dream. How can she possibly, after all this time, devote so much of her heart when there is a distinct chance that he'll break it all over again?

_"Let me in."_

He does so because in the chill of his empty apartment, the sleek cold of the hardwood under his feet, he finds himself unable to reject it.

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TBC

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A/N: I have five more chapters to go, so stick around! :)


	2. the inevitable rising action

**Falling Action  
By: asteriskjam**

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_the inevitable rising action_

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The door is open.

There is no greeting, no ridiculous open-armed welcome, but she is happy enough.

He watches as she practically skips into his minimalist living room and he observes her for the first time in years. Certainly, she has changed. Her hair is still pink, but it's shorter, choppier; edgier, almost. Her eyes are still that soft sea foam green, but they've gotten sharper, like she's finally, on some level, come to terms with reality.

He recognizes her outfit; she has fought him in it before. But then, he'd never come to terms with how much she'd grown. She's all pale skin drawn over plains of tight muscle. She is curvy in the parts a woman ought to be, and in that respect she is nothing like the girl he remembers—

Her cheeks are flushed he abruptly notices, and her smile is awkward like a novice geisha's first time attempting to be coy. "S-sasuke…are you ogling me?"

She grips the plastic in one hand and waves at him in a manner that he expects is supposed to be flirtatious. She's so bad at it. "Oh, I don't know what to say!"

She giggles and he finds himself distinctly uncomfortable.

"Out." He mutters, tone contained but biting. This is _not_ how his first real interaction with her (anyone, really) in the last few years should be.

She's returned to normal, but is confused, "…What?"

"Get out." In a swift push, he has her through the door, before she can get a word out or a reflex in.

As he walks away, she is banging against the wood.

"_Sasuke!"_ She pleads, _"It was a joke! C'mon!"_

Annoying.

"_Of course, you wouldn't ogle me! I mean, if you really were I'd have kicked your ass!"_

So annoying.

"_I understand that you don't have the same sex drive as other guys your age!"_

Super annoying.

Was she really trying to get back inside?

"_Otherwise, you must have some seriously suppressed hormones to resist,"_ He imagines she is making some ridiculously, un-sexy pose. _"—this—Ah, hello, sir! I didn't see you there."_

There is another person outside, probably another resident of his apartment complex and he expects he is looking at her weirdly. She smiles brightly and awkwardly, fumbling for a plausible reason as to why she would be shouting words with blatantly sexual undertones through his door, _"—Just convincing my libido-lacking boyfriend to take me back—"_

The man is still looking at her like she's spontaneously combusted.

_"Sir, no, sir, I swear. I'm neither a stalker nor a loose woman."_

She is desperately trying to salvage her reputation. She approaches him with pleading eyes and he is slowly backing away, clutching a cell phone in his hand.

_"There's no need to call the police! Really, he's going to open the door soon, ne, SASUKE-KUN?"_

He snorts, amused.

_"I'm not a fangirl! He really does know me!"_

He imagines the sweat running down her brow and that Mr. Whoever is probably wondering how this loon escaped the nut house. "_ANATA, let me in!"_

He refuses the chuckle in his throat. He bites it back with certain ferocity; but he's smiling for the first time in what feels like centuries.

The door is again open.

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It's a week later and they are having lunch.

Her food is good, better than whatever take-out he buys from the market on the days he remembers to. And they are more often than not, frivolously prepared into something she relates to him.

Today is sharingan spaghetti. Tomato and marinara sauce totally layered over a huge bowl of noodles, olives and meatballs utilized to make the pupil and the three tomoes.

He sighs, "Why do you do _this_?"

She looks at him incredulously, "Do what?"

"Why do you always unnecessarily arrange the food?"

He's probably being really rude, but the image of her laboring over a hot stove and clearly devoting too much effort in their meals for his sake, does not sit well with him.

"What, are you saying my _pains _aren't appreciated?" Her words have some bite to it, but he knows she doesn't mean it.

He shrugs, "…It's just so unnecessary."

She only smiles, "I'll take your initial hesitance as a, "I honestly do appreciate your wonderfully hand-crafted meals, Sakura, for without you and your delectable feasts, I would surely starve." She makes a dramatic gesture, "I also applaud your exquisite taste, your incomparable talent, and your stunning beauty."

"…Idiot."

She laughs.

He eats.

This is their dynamic. He is surprised that it only takes him a week to fall into it, and he is also kind of jarred that there is an _it_ to fall into.

She is so unlike the Sakura he remembers in her confidence, her sharp tongue, her distinct and unique ability to make him feel uncomfortable in a matter of seconds. And at the same time, traces of her old self appear so often, she seems to have never left—the poorly hidden conceit, the persistency, the terrible way she flirts.

Naruto obviously has a lot to do with her newfound steel will.

"He's grown so much," she says. When she talks about him, she always has this admiring, borderline adoring faraway look in her eyes and it never fails to irritate him.

Sure, in the beginning, when the _trust_ was new and fresh and fragile, he hardly ever spoke. As she discussed her job and her social life and ranted on about this and that, he merely sat, ate, and offered his vague attention. He was still unsure, still wary of her and her offers of simple friendship. He was in uncharted territory and he wasn't about to tread without caution.

The blonde ninja is a frequently (and one-sidedly) discussed topic. It always bothers him; always makes him remember his awkwardness, always reminds him of his status as an outcast, but he never thinks to speak up.

It is only now that he finds the courage to face her honesty.

Something heavy quells inside his chest, "I don't want to talk about him."

"Why not?" She looks up astonished first, then a little affronted. "Don't tell me you guys fought or something."

"How could we fight?" Sasuke says, throat unreasonably tight, "I haven't seen that idiot around."

She's quiet and he's surprised with the sudden understanding in her eyes. (He has always been somewhat awed by how much she could comprehend him, when he spoke so few words.)

"I see."

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The next morning, he wakes to the chime of his doorbell. Oddly, the familiar glow of chakra quickly retreats and he is a little confused as he climbs out of bed. He goes to the door and opens it to find no one. He squashes the tiny prick of initial disappointment and goes to pick up the red bento box on the ground near his entryway. There is a note attached.

_Sasuke,_

_Good morning! I have a shift at the hospital in about three minutes and I really can't wait around for you to get your lazy ass out of bed. Sorry to dash without a proper greeting._

_Enjoy the chidori egg special and don't forget to wash those dishes from yesterday!_

_Oh, and if you would be so kind as to cease this hermit-like behavior by joining me on the hospital rooftop at around noon, I might be persuaded to share my two super delicious sandwiches (extra tomatoes) with you. ;D_

_Love,_

_Sakura_

He mutters under his breath a quick, "Annoying" before returning to the cold of his apartment. There is a voice in the back of his mind that tells him that she is not worth the effort, but it is easily overcome by the eagerness of the organ in his chest, and by his body's desire for her warmth.

Noon comes soon enough and he makes his way over to the hospital's rooftop, anticipating her smile and her casual 'hello'.

He does not, however, expect the extra presence.

This chakra is almost too bright. It is raw and constantly fluctuating. It is like the sun and near impossible to ignore. It is too familiar.

He lands, dark eyes immediately drawing into a glare as they rest upon the blond ninja.

"Naruto."

The other shinobi has determination etched into his expression, but Sasuke can see that it is slowly wavering.

He seethes, turning to Sakura, "Why the hell is he here?"

"Oi, teme. Don't take your anger out on Sakura-chan," says the whiskered teen. Sasuke's glower multiplies in ferocity. They are so defensive of each other and it sickens him.

"Shut up." Sasuke growls, "I don't fucking want to speak to you."

"Sasuke." Sakura looks up at him, gaze ready and unyielding, "I brought him here."

She gives him a meaningful look, "You guys need to communicate."

"Sakura-chan, he obviously doesn't want to talk." Naruto rolls his eyes, "Just let the bastard be—"

"_Shut it_." Says the medic, brows furrowing. She turns to her best friend of four years and yells, "You're the bastard in all this Naruto."

Sasuke looks on with sort of morbid intrigue and Naruto is shocked speechless.

"And I didn't say talk, I said _communicate_." She grits determinedly, "Now, communicate!"

They each give her a somewhat bewildered look, wondering if she actually wanted them to—

"Yes, _fight_!" She crosses her arms and scoffs like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "The both of you apparently can't reconnect with words, so do it with your fists!"

They slowly turn to each other and each shinobi hesitantly adopts a signature fighting stance.

It then abruptly occurs to Sasuke how familiar the situation is.

He and Naruto are about to engage in battle on the hospital rooftop and Sakura is watching on the sidelines. The only real peculiarity is the fact that instead of attempting to stop them, she is in fact urging them on.

He remembers how that clash was his last with Naruto before he officially decided on leaving Konoha for Orochimaru's promise of power. They were at each other's throats but even then, Naruto still counted as one of his 'bonds'.

Sasuke momentarily wonders if it's all coincidental but he looks at her, takes in the resolute look in her eyes. She recognizes the settings significance.

"GO!" She pushes.

And they fight.

No jutsu, no weapons. Just punches and kicks and skill.

They fight till they are bloody and exhausted; till Sasuke realizes that Naruto is quiet because he is guilty for feeling so bitter at Sasuke; till Naruto realizes that Sasuke resents him for becoming someone cold and unfamiliar.

They end it in something of a draw and the tenseness, the weight of the negativity evaporates.

Naruto grins, "Teme."

Sasuke smirks, "Dobe."

Sakura laughs, "You guys are both _really_ stupid you know that?"

"Sakura-chan! That bastard hit me really hard in the mouth!" He leers over at the Uchiha, "Come over here and kiss it."

BAM.

The blonde is suddenly knocked out and Sakura's fist is clenched and red from where she struck, "Idiot."

Sasuke mutters under his breath, "Annoying."

There is nothing in his tone that suggests malice however. So taken by the overwhelming gratitude he feels for her at that very moment, the insult comes out almost affectionate.

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TBC

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	3. the barely there defining event

**Falling Action  
By: asteriskjam**

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_the barely there defining event_

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She takes him to his hearing with the Hokage and the council a few days later.

She smiles and whispers a small "good luck", before ushering him into the room. Her hand is tense and he realizes that it's because she's nervous for him. She's really good at masking it, he acknowledges, eyes roving over her determined grin, "I'll wait for you out here."

He nods and her grin flickers. She hesitates before saying, "Whatever happens, I'm here for you."

He doesn't know why his palms suddenly sweat. Perhaps because the gravity of the situation has finally clicked, he tells himself.

He nods again and shuts the door.

(He refuses to recognize how her devotion invokes both warmth and unease somewhere inside him.)

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He isn't surprised when a couple of hours later, when he finally reemerges from the room, she's still sitting there.

She looks up, stands, and approaches him; unsure, wary, but always hopeful. "So?"

The hearing was grueling. The council, as Tsunade had warned, were ruthless. Most kept pushing for countless years of jail time and inquisition (which meant they held the right to resort to torture). A few of the radically merciless council members even called for execution.

There was a small number however, who did take into account his willing return and the extermination of Orochimaru and Uchiha Itachi, and who had deemed a few years of probation enough punishment. The Godaime, thankfully, was quite influential in her seat of relatively high political power and had also vied for the least harsh of options.

"Year of probation and up to five months of weekly questioning."

Her eyes are sparkling and her lips are turned in an obnoxiously chipper way. "Then? After?"

He 'hns'. "I rejoin Team Seven."

And he curses her impulsiveness because she abruptly throws herself at him, the relief and glee radiating in her pleasantly gentle chakra. She is a head shorter than him, he numbly apprehends, as his chin rests comfortably on the top of her soft hair. As she winds her lithe arms around his torso, face in his chest, she says like she's trying to restrain a sob, "I'm so happy for you."

Her hair smells like strawberries and he is vaguely aware that he is happy for himself, too.

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He doesn't think it a conscious effort.

He remembers how she told him the day before, after dropping off a plate of Uchiha-style pancakes, that she probably would not see him the next day for breakfast or lunch due to the return of a large ANBU-squadron from their latest mission. He remembers nodding, dully; remembers attempting to understand a scroll she'd recommended he read in his spare time. He remembers feeling irritated (and feeling irritated that he was feeling irritated).

But he does not quite remember how or why he ended up here, in front of the hospital around the time she would get off her shift.

So it cannot be a conscious effort if he does not remember.

He would never consciously seek her out.

_No_.

Never.

He can feel the thrum of familiar chakra approaching the front doors of the hospital and he curses his heart for beating so irregularly.

She looks tired and worn and he squashes the irrational urge to yell at her to rest some more.

"Sasuke?" she asks, eyes wide with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

She's looking around, probably for his three tag-along parole officers. They're crouching in a tree a little ways away, and he can still feel their condensed chakra under a shield of what he assumes is their attempt at a masking jutsu. _Idiots_.

He shrugs, trying to keep the tenseness out of his eyes, "I want to get dinner."

Her brows draw into a glare, a reaction he is definitely not expecting, "Do I _look_ like a 24-hour fast food joint?" She is obviously weary, because she's warned him before that she gets 'a little temperamental' when she's weary. "I make a daily meal for you out of the goodness of my heart." She could also be PMS-ing, "That does _not_ mean you should go to me every time you get hungry."

Though, he probably could have worded that better. He sighs, containing the urge to call her annoying, "I meant, I want to go _out_ to eat."

The 'with you' is withheld, but her eyes soften in understanding anyhow and she's smiling so gently, she looks like porcelain. "Oh." She giggles, "You should have said so, idiot."

He rolls his eyes with her extreme mood swing, but immediately starts off in one direction, hoping she knows enough to follow.

She does.

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He is seething and he recognizes that Sakura's pleading voice is the only thing that's holding him back. He wants to kill the fucking bastard. He wants to destroy the entire fucking restaurant. He doesn't even care that the ANBU in the trees are readying to spring into action, waiting for the second he turns this intenseness into physical violence, the cue to take him out. He wants to make that bastard pay for having the fucking gall to—

"Sasuke, it's fine." Sakura says gently, throwing a little sideways glare at the building they just exited. "That guy's always been an asshole."

They were thrown out. The owner of the place had refused them service and had asked them, hateful glare fixed in his direction, to leave.

"Bastard." Sasuke grits, agreeing.

He knows that it's his fault. Sakura is Konoha's sweetheart—she has a kind of insane charm that draws people in, making it hard for them to resist her. He knows that she is only rejected because of her association with the _Uchiha-traitor_ and he cannot keep the guilt from mixing with his fury.

As they walk down the street, Sakura is still continually ranting about the injustice of it all, "That restaurant wasn't all that great anyway. Seriously." She puts on a determined grin; "I bet I could concoct something way better. Something delicious and free." She looks up at him with those eyes of hers, "It would be personalized too."

She's trying to make him feel better and it kills him to know that he's responsible.

"Fuck." He curses, the anger is slowly ebbing with her words and gestures and presence but the remorse remains.

He would like to say sorry, that it's his fault, anything to ease the guilt that's eating away at his defenses, but the words are stuck in his throat.

She reads him anyway.

Sakura looks at him fiercely, brows drawn and pink mouth in a deep frown, "Don't you dare apologize." She says, fingers gripping together in unyielding resolve, "You didn't do anything wrong here, Sasuke."

He swears he feels his features softening because of her defensiveness and he curses himself for it. It isn't something that can be helped, however, because his subconscious understands that she's always in some form or another had that kind of effect on him.

She gives him a meaningful stare, her bright eyes unguarded, "Please don't feel that you're to blame." Her smile is almost tentative, " You don't owe anyone, anything."

They are silent a few moments; standing under that lamppost at around nine in the evening, their eyes meeting and communicating something they probably can't admit out loud. She is suddenly beaming once more, and she trots ahead in a ridiculous manner, "C'mon, I'll fix us up a nice plate of leftovers!"

Sasuke scoffs something about how she'd just said she'd make something delicious and free, but walks after her anyway.

As his eyes follow her back he is overwhelmed by the realization that he's already begun to owe her _everything_.

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It is a few days later and she is away on a three-week mission in the Sand—something about an epidemic of new and seemingly incurable illnesses. They send over an urgent note, requesting an experienced Konoha med-nin to rush over ASAP and Sakura is automatically volunteered.

Sasuke pushes the omelet that he made himself, around on his plate.

It's too cold in his apartment. The tick-tocking of his clock reverberates loudly in all the empty space.

The feeling is familiar, but surprisingly, unwelcome.

And he cannot fathom why the Sand is so fucking helpless.

Naruto jeers later over a bowl of ramen at Ichiraku, that he's angry because he misses her.

Sasuke calls him an idiot.

But not a liar.

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She's back.

He gets up early on the day of her return and her warm chakra is soon pulsating behind his door. He doesn't acknowledge the unnatural way he rushes to it. He opens the door.

And is bombarded by her _vibrancy_.

Soft petal-pink hair, choppy, short. Bright eyes, the color of sea foam. Glistening lips upturned in a smile. The glow of happy chakra.

"Hi, Sasuke."

There is something in her stance, in her energy that suggests she really, _really_ wants to throw herself at him and he cannot help but think, _then get on with it._

She must have read him, like she tends to, because she does. She smells like grass and disinfectant and he realizes that his apartment must have been one of her first stops. He bites back the urge to nuzzle in her hair. So he makes due by breathing in her scent.

Her face is in his chest when she admits, smiling, "I really missed you, you jerk."

"…Mm."

Agreement. Me too.

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They are sharing her 'Sasuke Onigiri', rice balls artfully decorated with a chibi caricature of his face (how she does this, he can only imagine) when she first mentions her heroes.

"Tsunade-shishou, definitely." She says, "She's been so good to me. She took me under her wing even when I was such a pathetic kunoichi." She laughs here, as if she's come to terms with the reality of her past weakness, "And though she isn't exactly the best role model in the world, she's one of the strongest women I've met or probably ever will meet."

He nods in agreement.

The next hero she mentions is someone he's never heard of.

"Her name was Chiyo." She tells him with a sad, nostalgic voice, "She was an elder of Sunagakure and the grandmother of an Akatsuki member."

Sakura proceeds with a story of their first and last mission together—how a couple of Akatsuki members kidnapped Gaara, how she and Chiyo fought and defeated her puppet-wielding grandson, Sasori, how Chiyo revived a dead Gaara at the cost of her own life.

When the girl talks animatedly about the battle between herself, the old lady, and the Akatsuki member, Sasuke cannot help but acknowledge how far she's come.

The final 'hero' she mentions throws him a little off guard.

"Naruto." Her eyes have that same faraway look again, and he is irritated for some inexplicable reason, "He's been through so much, you know? Even when he's taken so much crap from other people, he still protects this village with everything he has."

His brows furrow and he does not know why his chest clenches up when she talks about him so admiringly.

This new resentment for Naruto is different from those first irritated feelings at the blonde's initial awkwardness. It isn't quite so deep, but it is potent.

"He's an idiot," she grins, softly, "But I love him."

Really potent.

_Stupid dobe._

"I really hope," she continues, her features gentle, "that I can be just as strong as them, someday."

Here, she gives him something of a determined grin, "I need to protect my important people too, y'know?"

He can't tell if it's the cheeky smile or the resoluteness in her eyes but something reassures him that, indeed, she will.

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TBC

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	4. the hastily decided crisis

**Falling Action  
By: asteriskjam**

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_the hastily decided crisis_

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Sasuke is uncharacteristically out of the apartment a few days later.

She keeps nagging about his needing fresh air every once in a while, so damn it, you annoying pink-haired twit, _fine_.

He takes a walk.

Again, there are those same whispers—all this time, and the townspeople have not found it in their hearts to forgive him. They call him names when they think he cannot hear, they keep their distance when he passes through. But he's hardened himself to it and nowadays, he cannot muster enough energy to care…

That is, until Sakura's name is mentioned in passing.

"Haruno Sakura? The medic with the pink hair? Really?"

"Seriously! She hangs around the Uchiha-traitor a lot. They were teammates once I think."

"That doesn't mean she should _consort_ with the likes of him. I mean after what he's done…"

"She's such a sweet girl. He's only dragging her down."

"I know! If she keeps fraternizing with that traitor, I think I'll have to refuse her service…"

"Isn't that a little harsh?"

"Oh, come on! You've heard the stories of that bastard right? He's a cold-blooded murderer. He can't be trusted. And I for one, wouldn't trust anyone foolish enough to associate themselves with him."

"He's right. Haruno-san's a pleasant young woman, but I cannot ignore the fact that she visits the Uchiha-traitor on a daily basis. Think of what that could do to my business!"

"I pity her, really. How could she not consider the repercussions of being involved with that murderer?"

He is quietly standing in his corner and his mind is rushing and his chest his hurting and his throat is tightening.

He is livid and angry and the insides of his ears are throbbing.

His body is shaking with all this rage and there is a sharp pain in his ribs.

He hates them so much right now. Those stupid fucking gossip-mongers who cannot mind their own fucking business. He wants so badly to hurt them. Make them realize that he has been standing there the entire time, that he has heard their little quips, that he is tired of them and that he has the power to _make them disappear_. He wants them to cower, to quake in terror, to apologize for saying all those useless things, those unnecessary words.

Though he knows it won't make their remarks any less true.

He is a killer who cannot, should not, be trusted.

And he is so, _so_ stupid for letting her get involved.

As Sasuke rushes home, something deep and agonizing settles in his stomach and his throat and his chest and his head.

It is inevitable.

_It is excruciating._

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The next morning, her happy energy is at the door.

The bell chimes in that familiar way, but he doesn't bother to get out of bed, even though he's been listlessly staring at his blank wall for hours.

"_Sasuke! Get up, lazy ass! I've got a huge fuuma shuriken themed breakfast with your name on it!"_

She waits a while longer and she's probably wondering why he isn't opening the door and greeting her with his usual scowl.

The doorbell rings again but Sasuke doesn't attempt to move.

"_Sasuke! Open up! It's me, Sakura! You know, your friend-slash-food-deliverer?"_ She scoffs from behind the wood, "_This is not how you treat your friends-slash-food-deliverers!"_

Silence.

"_Hey! What the hell is wrong with you? Open the door! I know you're in there_!" She says, obviously irritated with his lack of response.

Nothing.

"_Sasuke_?" She asks this hesitantly, "_Hey. Are you ok in there?"_

His brows furrow and he prays for her to realize that he needs her to leave.

There is a short knock on the wood, "_Sasuke, I swear, if you don't answer me in the next few seconds, I'm breaking this door down on the grounds that you could possibly be dying_!"

He rises quickly and heads over to the entrance of his apartment. He allows himself a second to relish in it—her familiar presence permeating through the lumber, reaching him in the frigidity of his apartment. Then he forces his voice an octave lower than usual, darker and harder than usual, because he desperately needs to sound convincing.

"_Sasuke_—"

"Go away." He mutters through the wood.

She is quiet for a minute on the other side and his breath catches as his hopes are conflicted.

"_What is wrong with you? I thought we've already been through this_! _I_—"

"Leave." He insists, glaring hard at nothing, "I don't want to see you again."

"_Asshole_." Sakura retorts. There is barely discernable hesitance in her voice, but he catches it, _"…I know you don't mean that_."

"I do." He says, unflinchingly, "Your presence has become a burden. I don't _need _your stupid lunches and shit. Do you really think I care about whether or not you come here?"

Bile catches in his throat but he wills down the urge to cough, "Well, I've realized that your annoying presence far outweighs anything I could possibly like about your food."

She pauses.

"…_I don't believe you_." She finally whispers against the door. He hears the dull thud of plastic on hardwood, _"…I'm just going to assume you're in a mood so, I'll leave this here_."

_Stupid._

He rests his forehead against the door, throat tight as he snarls out, "Don't come back."

Her feather light footfalls pause as she hesitates a moment. He only allows himself to exhale when her energy has fully stepped out of the building. He drops to his knees, brow sliding slowly against the wood and he curses his weak resolve.

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She does come back.

"_Sasuke! Open the door!"_

And he ignores her. This time, completely like he should have in the beginning. He doesn't reply to her infuriated shouts, he doesn't growl out his tactful, 'Leave me the fuck alone!', he doesn't even bother to take her food in anymore.

She refuses to back down.

"_What the hell, Sasuke? You didn't eat this, after I spent hours arranging the noodles in just the right way—"_

Granted, her moods are erratic and constantly changing in response to his coldness. And her temper is always more volatile than the visit prior.

"_Sasuke! I know you're starving in there! I've got food so open up_!"

"_Fine. Don't open the door! I'll just let the food get cold out here. See if I care_."

"_I hate you, you bastard! Open the fucking door so I can pummel you into the ground_!"

But she's always, always there the next day, chakra spiking and angry and impatient and very obviously hurt.

It is the 14th day, her Uchiha-style casserole cold and untouched at his doorstep, when her tenacity wavers and dissolves into an attitude reminiscent of a younger Sakura. His back is against the door and he quietly listens to her speak.

"_C'mon, Sasuke…_ " Her once vivacious tone is soft and almost inaudible. "_At least tell me why you're suddenly shutting me out. Don't I deserve to know_?"

"_Did I offend you in some way?"_ She's so bad at masking her emotions, he wonders how she ever made it as a ninja, "_Is…is it really because you're tired of me?"_

He forces away the urge to violently shake his head, 'no.'

"_I know I can be a handful, but it's not like I don't mean well… I just want to be there for you. What's so bad about that_?"

There is another long, pregnant pause.

_"…I could talk less, really. All you had to do was tell me to shut up a bit."_

Her insecurities are in plain sight and there is dense weight constricting his airway.

"…_Sasuke, at least accept the food_!"

"_Geez." _Her following chuckle is shaky and hesitant, because humor is so ironic in a situation like this. "_You've got to be sick of living on tomatoes and onigiri!"_

"_And my food is free and perfectly okay. You've never complained before…"_

She's choking on her own gasps and it hurts somewhere inside him to think she's crying, so he wills the images away. He reinforces his determination with the idea that this is good for her. That the pain she's feeling now is nothing compared to the consequences of having him be a part of her future.

"_Why…are you doing this to me_?" She says, breathily.

She is not crying.

"_I thought we were getting along really well and I—"_

No. No way.

"_I guess I was…wrong?"_

Just no.

_"…I'm sorry."_

_No_.

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She doesn't return and the realization that she probably never will is surreal and disarming and _so fucking horrible_ he sits in bed for 19 straight hours, holding on to the impossible notion that, if he waits, he will eventually sense her bounding chakra outside the door.

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TBC

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End file.
